Worth It
by LeiaOrganicSolo
Summary: Daxter's POV on how he always knows what the Big Guy's thinking. Quick drabble. Very very minor language.


A slight narrow to those baby blues. _Oh boy. You've just gotten on his nerves. I'd stop talking if I were you._

A hard set to the jaw. _Dude, I'm not kidding. You're gonna make him angry._

A quick clench of fists. _Don't you listen? He's angry. You wouldn't like him when he's angry..._

Pupils begin to dilate, rapidly turning darker, pitch black. _Uh oh. You've _seriously_ pissed him off now._

And that's usually when the biggest change of all happens. Horns sprouting from each temple, fingernails grow into long sharp claws designed to kill. _Can't say I didn't warn ya._ Yep, the Big Guy's lost it now, a force to be reckoned with. Dark Eco, consuming him, transforming him into an unstoppable force of nature, with the ability to take down anything in his path.

And I knew it was coming, from the moment I looked at his face. I knew it. But I always know it.

But it's not just when something bad's gonna happen. Nope. I know every single thing that Jak thinks even before he says it out loud (if he chooses to say it, with him you never know). Every single thing does, I've already known it was gonna happen.

Am I psychic?

Nah.

Jak's just an open book.

Now, I know that sounds surprising. To most people, you never know what to expect with him. He's like a storm, one moment it's calm, the next BAM! Suddenly you're caught up in a whirl wind of pure destruction, all bundled up in a restless renegade.

And me, Orange Lightening.

But back to Jak.

He's so predictable, if you know him. You see, him and I have been best friends since I don't know when. When we were younger, Old Green Stuff would always say we were stuck to each other like glue on glue (much to his dismay.) There never was a time in our childhood where we weren't out finding trouble or causing it, unless you count the umpteen million hours we spent on the beach, watching the ocean tear its way over the horizon. We were always referred to as Jak _and_ Daxter, or Daxter _and_ Jak. Or in the case of some of the annoying as hell villagers, well... "Those little sons of bitches! Get your asses back here and _clean this up!_" As you can tell, we weren't exactly popular with the adults. Me much less than Blondie.

And Jak, well.

Jak was a mute. The most he'd ever said probably was "Ow." And it was more a shout of pain than any real word. I think that was when I convinced him to whack a wumpbee nest with a stick on his ninth birthday (Heheh. Good times.) So I did all the talking, which was rather unfortunate to anybody I came in contact with. And it was up to me to know what Jak was thinking, so I could get his point across, and stick up for him when he needed me too. And quite frankly, I did a pretty damn good job.

Everyone always wondered how I did it, but it's so obvious.

It's in his eyes. Those big blue orbs. Ya know what? They remind of the ocean in Sandover. Yeah. The ocean. Big and blue, waves crashing onto the shore, and the sun. It was always sunny. And Jak was always laughing, silent, but _I _could hear him just the same.

He's my open book. I've never once been wrong to what he was thinking, because I have my ways of knowing. Like when he cocks his head to the side and stares at me, it's so obvious that he's wondering what the hell is wrong with me. (And trust me, I get that look a _lot_.) It's usually followed by the question "Alright, what have you been drinking," or a roll of the eyes.

Or when he bites his lip, he's coming up with a plan to get us outta whatever hell hole we've landed ourselves in. (This also happens a lot, too much actually for my liking.)

I know he's happy when his shoulders relax from the tight, rigid position they're always in. (I think he only stands like that cause he hates being short. I mean, I'm not one to talk. I'm a freaking ottsel. But as a human well... Must be embarrassing.)

It's quite obvious when he's angry. He clenches his fists, and grits his teeth. You can almost feel it coming off of him in waves. That's usually when it's up to me to come in and calm him down. A couple funny faces do the trick, but when that doesn't work I have to go to the extreme. Impersonations of Old Green Stuff. (I'm getting pretty good at them too.) Sometimes that doesn't work either, so I do what I do best.

I talk.

Mainly I complain. Complaining really is good therapy, I swear. It helps get everything off your chest, and when you're too busy worrying about the little stuff, you barely notice the big piles of crap going on. (Trust me, Jakkie and I have a ton of those...) Words hurt, but sometimes they heal too. Just a single little, "You okay?" to Jak when he's got that empty look on his face snaps him out of it, even if it's just for a little while. So I talk, cause if I didn't, Jak sure as hell wouldn't.

Sometimes I talk so much, I wouldn't even call it talking.

More like babbling.

I babble on and on about the most stupidest things, most of which make me cringe when I realize what words just left my mouth. But they're all for Jak, and I'd gladly endure being shanked by the Tattooed Wonder or being smacked silly by Old Green Stuff if it means I can get Jak to smile. Sometimes I think I'm his last shred of sanity. I know he's mine. Jak's like a harbor, always bringing me back to reality, while I pull him out of the real world, cause let's face it. It sucks. Bad.

But crooked smile of his... Well...

It's very rare.

But when he does smile, I find that being turned into an ottsel, all the crap we constantly go through, being stranded in this hell hole of a city, and watching as my world slowly tears apart, is worth it.

**Quick drabble, Daxter's POV. I figured Daxter would have something to say on how he always knows what Jak is thinking.  
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**Hope you enjoyed it! :D  
**

**~LeiaOrganicSolo**


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